


On Any Sunday

by thespeckledbandicoot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe- Motorcycle Racing, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespeckledbandicoot/pseuds/thespeckledbandicoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo met him back at the pits, where Bokuto had already tossed off his helmet and was sprawled dejectedly in a chair. </p><p>“Man, what is that guy’s problem!” Bokuto yelled, as soon as he spotted Kuroo. “It was a friggin heat race, and he’s out there like it’s the main!” Kuroo could black marks on the outside of Bokuto’s pants, rubber marks left from Akaashi’s tires. </p><p>“I told you, bro, he’s sneaky.” He dropped a quick kiss in Bokuto’s hair, hoping to placate him. He still had to race a semi-final, it wouldn’t do for him to be too worked up. </p><p>Bokuto snorted. “Sneaky, he’s downright ruthless. Well I’ll tell you, I am not letting some upstart rookie keep me from the main. I’m going to go out there and kick his ass.” </p><p>-----</p><p>Or, veteran flat track racers Bokuto and Kuroo find a new rival, friend and maybe more, through motorcycle racing, fair food, and lots and lots of camping.</p><p>Written for BokuAkaKuro Week 2016</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Any Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea conceived in the middle of another work that I was struggling with. It got out of hand very quickly. The pacing of this first chapter is a bit slow while I introduce everything and mostly Bokuto/Kuroo, but next chapter Akaashi will play a much bigger role. This is going to take me much longer than a week to get out, so bare with me there. 
> 
> [This](http://www.motorcycle-usa.com/photogallerys/Daytona-Flattrack-2011.jpg?378220) is what flat track racing looks like. I hope I have done it justice. There will be some more definitions at the bottom of each chapter if they're needed.

Day One: Rivalry And Cohesion

JANUARY

The arena floor was crowded, people and bikes everywhere, and warm, despite the cold bite of the winter wind outside. Kuroo inhaled deeply, the scent of gasoline, motor oil and the hint of burnt rubber filled his nose.

He grimaced at the scent hidden underneath it all, faint but sickly sweet. “Bo, why are we here? Coke syrups suck ass.” He whined to the man next to him, leaning casually against the wall. 

Bokuto snorted. “Not as much as you do. We are here because it is Friday night and we have nothing better to do. And there is a race on! Why wouldn’t you want to be here?”

Kuroo sighed, “Because we’re finally in the same state, not sleeping in campers or tents, and I’m sure I could find us a bed in need of a workout?” Bokuto just laughed.

“Come on dude! We’re here for three days, let’s have a little fun. I love the indoor races!”

Sighing again, Kuroo relented. “Can we at least grab a beer? I think I saw Oikawa lurking around scoping out the new talent. We can ‘help’.” 

Bokuto laughed, “Now there’s a plan I’m behind! Hey, did you see they’re running outlaw three wheelers? That’s gonna be sick dude, we gotta be down here for that!”

They headed off towards the concession stand, chatting easily about the line up, the riders, and other more personal things. They had just received their (overpriced) drinks when Kuroo spotted him. 

“Bo. Bo! Look over there, isn’t that Keiji Akaashi?” He nudged Bokuto in the ribs. Bokuto protested as the very full beer he had been about to drink was jostled, some sloshing over onto his hand and further onto his shoes.

“Dude, who the hell is that?” Bokuto griped, shaking his hand dry. 

“He’s the kid that won the GNC-Two championship the last two years. Our new competition.” Akaashi was leaning against the barriers by the track, watching the first heats line up at the starting line. The single cylinder bikes were rumbling in the background, the sound bouncing off the syrupped concrete floors and walls, muting the murmurs of the audience in the stands above.

Kuroo observed him, scrutinized him really. He was tall, though not quite the height of either himself or Bokuto. Muscled leanly, like Kuroo. His dark hair was curly, messy, perpetually looking like he’d just removed his helmet. 

Akaashi was something of a rising star in the flat track world. In the three years since his sixteenth birthday, he’d won dozens of races and claimed the championship title twice. His rise to the top had been meteoric. 

It was surprising especially, since he’d had a plenty of pretty crappy races his first year, lots of broken bikes and missed dates. But then he’d shown up half way through the season with a new sponsorship and a new mechanic, and he’d started winning left and right. 

The first year he’d finished solidly in the middle of the pack. The next two years, no one could catch him. His starts were dynamic, his blocking was impeccable and most of all he was ruthless. If he got in front of you, you would be hard pressed to get the lead back.

Kuroo mulled all this over while as he watched, one eye on the race, the other on Akaashi. He would be bad news on the track this year. Having won the semi-pro circuit twice, he now had to move up to the pro circuit. 

But Kuroo loved a challenge. He was after all, in a relationship with his biggest competition. He and Bokuto had been trading off the champion title for several years now, and while they both loved shit talking on the track, they never let it get in the way of how they felt about each other.

Kuroo hoped Akaashi would prove interesting as well. The current field was far from stale, but new blood was always exciting.

“Should we introduce ourselves?” Bokuto asked. Kuroo shook his head. 

“Nah, I don’t think this is the time. I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty of him this season.” 

As they spoke, a kid approached Akaashi, around the same age with poorly dyed blonde hair. He tugged lightly on Akaashi’s sleeve, leaning up to speak in his ear, voice lifting to be heard over the din of roaring engines.

Akaashi nodded at whatever was said to him and the two meandered off through the crowd toward the load in doors. 

Kuroo watched them go, a predatory smirk on his face. Bokuto noticed and a grin sliced across his face too. “Oooh Kuroo. I know that face.”

“What can I say Bo? I think this season will be very entertaining.” He slung an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders. “Now, I think something was said earlier about some outlaw three wheelers? I think they’re lining them up now.” Bokuto cheered and they headed off to find a good spot, Kuroo casting one last glance in the direction Akaashi had disappeared.

 

 

FEBRUARY

The off-season was Kuroo’s least favorite time of year. From October to March, he really didn’t know what to do with his free time. Like many pro riders, he worked in a bike shop when he was home, and spent his time cleaning up and fixing all kinds of bikes, from race bikes, to cruisers, to peewee bikes and mopeds. 

But what he mostly did was mope around and miss Bokuto. Bokuto was originally from California, while Kuroo hailed from Illinois, and every off season they had to separate. Where Kuroo only worked in a shop, Bokuto’s family owned their own and it was much harder for him to slip away when everyone there knew what his race schedule was. 

So here he was. It was the middle of February, and the start of the season was only three weeks away. He was antsy, and bored. There weren’t very many races at this time of year, so they mostly only got work from casual riders. 

Tonight, however, there was an arena cross race in town. That meant that Kuroo, working at the only shop that sold race fuel in town, was busy. 

He waved a thankful mechanic out with a full gas can and leaned against the counter sighing. They closed in half an hour, and the race should just about be starting, so unless some team was very ill-prepared, he probably wouldn’t see anyone else.

The thought had barely finished when the door burst open, the bells jangling wildly. Kuroo bolted upright and was shocked to see a mildly panicked Keiji Akaashi striding towards him. Kuroo had never witnessed the beautiful boy be anything but… well, stoic. 

Akaashi reached the counter. “Please, please tell me you have a petcock for a 2014 Honda CRF250 in stock.” 

“Ah, hang on one sec, I’ll check inventory.” Kuroo hopped onto the computer and started pulling up the bike’s specs. As the computer loaded, he glanced at Akaashi, who was drumming his fingers impatiently on the counter. It didn’t seem to be a rude gesture, just one of uncontrolled anxiety. “Do you ride arenacross?” Kuroo asked finally, trying to distract him.

“Ah. No. A friend of mine, we work together really, he’s racing in the amateur division tonight. I only race flat track.” Akaashi leveled him with an impassive stare. “But I think you already know that, Triumph.” 

The nickname was something Kuroo was still getting used to. He grinned anyway, pleased at the call out. “Aha, my reputation precedes me. Don’t believe anything you’ve heard.” Akaashi’s blank stare only continued. The computer blipped tiredly at him and Kuroo gladly took the distraction. “Looks like we’ve got a couple of your part in the back. One moment.” 

He ducked into the back and quickly found the right shelf. Returning with the bagged part he found Akaashi typing hurriedly on his phone. He looked up as Kuroo reemerged, and damn could that pretty face look intimidating. 

Kuroo quickly rung him up. “And that’ll be twelve eighty-three please.” Akaashi handed over a twenty and Kuroo counted out his change. “Have a great evening sir,” He said with a smirk as Akaashi walked away. “See you in Daytona!” Akaashi responded to that with an unimpressed look over his shoulder and a quiet, “I suppose so.” 

The exchange stayed with Kuroo the rest of the night, and as he talked to Bokuto late that evening, he discovered a deep desire burning in his chest. Not all of it was attraction, though there was a fair amount of that. Akaashi was beautiful, there was no denying that.

But he was sharp, and Kuroo knew on the track he was a force to be reckoned with. He voiced these thoughts to Bokuto, who laughed, his voice tinny over the Skype connection. “Aww does Kuroo have a crush on the rookie?” Kuroo threw a sock at the computer screen. 

“I’m excited for new competition. Hell, I’m excited for competition. I know you’ve got your busy West Coast asshole thing going on, but winter in the Midwest is boring as shit bro.” 

Bokuto smiled, large and genuine. “Three more weeks, Tetsurou.” The sound of his first name jolted through Kuroo. “Three more weeks and we’re together again. Bring on Bike Week!”

Kuroo cheered with him, and when they said goodnight, he fell asleep with a smile and warmth nestled deep in his chest.

 

MARCH

Kuroo rolled into the campground in Daytona Beach at the bright and early time of nine in the evening. He’d left Springfield well before the sun came up and driven straight through, fifteen and a half hours only interrupted by bathroom breaks, and fuel and food stops. 

He backed the trailer carefully into his assigned camping spot for the week and then hopped out of the cab, groaning and stretching his cramped legs. 

Yaku Morisuke, his mechanic and long time friend copied him from the passenger side. “Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?” He asked, wincing as he worked a cramp out of his calf. 

“Because we are masochists, and also probably because this is the best damn sport in the world. Hey, would you mind setting the blocks? I need to go check the schedule.” Yaku waved him off, and Kuroo trotted off towards the race track. The campground and track were already crowded, racers and spectators alike unloading bikes, setting up tents and milling about.

Kuroo dodges a pair of teen boys on mopeds and finds the race info, tacked to the wall of the campground office. The riders meeting is the next morning at ten am, and practice starts at eleven. Pulling a sharpie out of his pants pocket, Kuroo jotted down the times he needed. 

He had just turned to head back to the campsite when a loud “HEY HEY HEY!” rang out.

A grin broke across his face and something heavy barrelled into him from the side. Thick arms wrapped around his waist and he was picked up off his feet and swung around in a full circle. 

Gently placed back on his felt, Kuroo felt a cold nose burrow into his neck. “Hey,” He said softly. He twisted in the encircling arms, trying to a good look at Bokuto. All he could manage was a face full of dyed grey hair. He nuzzled into it affectionately, squirming his arms free so he could wrap them around Bokuto’s broad shoulders. 

“I missed you.” Bokuto said into his collarbone. 

“I missed you too, silly.” People were definitely staring now. Not that Kuroo minded particularly, he and Bokuto had never exactly been subtle about their relationship, but right now he’d rather have Bokuto to himself somewhere more private. “Is your camp set up?” He murmured against soft strands.

“Yeah. Konoha and Komi went out to get food.” Komi was Bokuto’s team mechanic and Konoha was another rider for Fukurodani Motors. 

“Great. Shall we?” Bokuto finally leaned back from the hug and grinned up at Kuroo. 

“We shall,” Bokuto linked his arm through Kuroo’s and they practically skipped off in the direction of his camp site. 

It wasn’t too far from Kuroo and Yaku’s. The team trailer was parked behind the camper, and Bokuto had set up a tent off to one side of the lot. He broke away from Kuroo to unzip it, guiding him inside with a deep bow and a grand sweep of his arm. 

“I will never understand why you love tents so much,” Kuroo said as they duck awkwardly through the opening that was much too low for either of them. 

“Dude. Tent camping is the best. Plus, Konoha and Komi complain about my snoring when I sleep in the camper,” Bokuto admitted with a grin, plopping down on the air mattress wedged in the corner. He sprawled, crossing his arms behind his head and wiggled his eyebrows at Kuroo. “You coming?” 

Kuroo took a moment to drink him in, shirt riding up to expose strong tanned abs, biceps and shoulders flexed attractively in the sleeveless top. Then he smirked and belly flopped on the bed right next to Bokuto.

“SHIT. Kuroo, what the hell man, don’t pop my bed!” Bokuto shrieked as he was sent flying into the air briefly. 

Kuroo’s braying laugh filled the air. “Sorry Bo, I couldn’t resist. Now come here.” He flung his arms open and Bokuto happily rolled into them. Their lips met, softly at first, but quickly becoming deeper. Bokuto flailed around a bit before getting his bearings and slinging a leg over Kuroo. He braced his arms on either side of Kuroo’s head and ground his hips down into Kuroo, sinking into him. 

Kuroo gasped at the feeling of that strong body on his, and pressed his hips up insistently into Bokuto’s. His fingers trailed up under the hem of Bokuto’s tight tank top, gliding up to feel along strong back muscles, before dipping down into the hem of his athletic shorts. 

He teased along the waistband, before digging his hand in and firmly squeezing Bokuto ass. Bokuto groaned into his open mouth. “Fuck, Kuroo, let me-” He rolled away towards his bag, laying on the floor of the tent. “Take off your pants,” he instructed as he rummaged through different pockets. Kuroo obliged, and lazily stroked himself, enjoying the view. “Aha!” Bokuto held up his find, a brand new bottle of lube.

He quickly stripped out of his clothes, and flopped ungracefully back onto the air, this time sending Kuroo flying. Kuroo squawked in protest. “Bo!” 

Bokuto smirked. “All’s fair in love and air mattress sex Tetsurou.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Get over here. I don’t know what you’re planning on doing with that lube anyway, we both have to race tomorrow,” Kuroo griped, watching Bokuto click open the bottle and pour a generous amount onto his hand, working it around to warm it. 

“Well you see,” Bokuto began, as he resumed his position straddling Kuroo, “I was thinking of doing this.” He gathered both of them into his lubed up palm, gripping tightly and stroking. 

Kuroo swore, and couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting up, into that delicious friction. Bokuto’s hands were rough, calloused and they felt so, so good on his dick. The added sensation of Bokuto’s own member, rubbing silky smoothness along the underside of his cock was heavenly.

“O-okay, good plan, A-plus idea, shit, holy shit, Bo,” Kuroo was just speaking nonsense as Bokuto stroked them both quickly towards completion. Before he really knew what was happening, and well before he would ever be comfortable admitting, Kuroo felt that familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach, and he barely gasped out a warning before he was coming, sticky warmth spilling over his stomach and Bokuto’s hand.

Bokuto leaned down and smashed their mouths together, not letting up his pace at all. Kuroo groaned at the continued contact, pleasure quickly edging into over-sensitivity. Bokuto kissed him messily, speeding up his strokes and thrusting against Kuroo frantically until he, too, reached his climax. 

Bokuto dropped onto his back next to Kuroo. “Fuck.” He said, panting. “That was embarrassingly brief.” 

Kuroo hummed his agreement, exhausted. Bokuto took a minute to catch his breath, then dug through his shower bag for a towel and wiped them both clean. When he was done, he burrowed into Kuroo’s chest, strong arms wrapping around him. Kuroo allowed the embrace, snuggling together against the chill spring air. 

They laid like that for a few minutes until Bokuto’s stomach broke the silence with a loud rumble. 

“Oh, uh… I haven’t eaten in awhile. We should go find some food,” He said, reluctantly sitting up. 

They got dressed, not very quickly at all, as Kuroo kept stopping to stare at Bokuto’s ass, and Bokuto spent five minutes trying to find matching socks before he’d even put on underwear. When they finally emerged from the tent, it was to an audience. Konoha raised an eyebrow from over his milkshake, and Komi cheered. Yaku frowned disapprovingly from his seat on the camper steps. 

Kuroo sheepishly waved. “Uh hey guys. Yaku, listen, I-” 

Yaku held up a hand. “Don’t. Just don’t. I ran into these two on the way to the bathroom so I gathered where you had gone.” He stood, stretching. “Anyway, if you’re done, we should go finishing setting up camp, and go over stuff for tomorrow.” 

“Awww, but we were gonna get food.” Bokuto whined as Kuroo made to follow Yaku. Konoha chucked a wrapped up burger at him. 

“Get some sleep Bo. You’re gonna need it, if you wanna have a chance tomorrow,” Kuroo said, slinging an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders. Bokuto scoffed.

“Please, just because you’ve got the Number One plate for now doesn’t mean you’re hot shit. I’ve still got more championship titles than you.” Bokuto jammed a playful elbow into Kuroo’s ribs. 

“Yeah, yeah, you still need your beauty sleep.” He drew Bokuto into a deep kiss. Komi wolf-whistled while Konoha made fake retching noises.

“Come on you two, get a room. You can probably get a discount rate since you’ll only need it for five minutes.” Konoha said as they finally broke apart. Kuroo flushed, and took that as his cue to leave. 

“Okay well good night everybody! And remember Konoha, I’ll be kicking your ass on the track tomorrow too!” Kuroo said in parting, steering a snickering Yaku back in the direction of their camp. 

“Night babe!” Bokuto called around a mouthful of hamburger. Kuroo smiled fondly and bent an ear to Yaku as he turned the conversation to their strategy tomorrow.

 

RACE DAY: DAYTONA FLAT TRACK

Kuroo rose early the morning of the race, as he usually did. He and Yaku ate a quick breakfast, and checked that everything they would need for the day was loaded in the back of the truck and made the short drive to the track to join the queue for registration. 

The line moved along quickly and soon they had claimed a pit stall. As they were unloading, a truck pulled up to the empty spot next to them, blaring its horn obnoxiously. Yaku shot Kuroo a dirty glance, muttering “Does he always have to be so loud?” 

Kuroo rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics, smiling anyway when the wild-haired man hopped out of the drivers seat. Another truck pulled in behind him and Kuroo nodded a greeting at Konoha inside. 

They unloaded together, setting up the pop up tents, and rolling bikes and tool boxes down the ramps, until it was all set up. After they parked the trucks, it was time for the riders meeting. Kuroo, Bokuto and Konoha walked over together. Along the way they waved and greeted other racers they passed. Tooru Oikawa and his teammate Hajime Iwaizumi were in the next row over, both with brand new 2016 Yamahas to show off. Daichi Sawamura and his wife Yui had set up pits side by side next to the official’s booth. Kuroo and Bokuto stopped in to congratulate them on their recent marriage, and to wish them both luck. 

“Geez, come on old men, we can exchange pleasantries later,” Konoha said, tapping his foot impatiently. 

Bokuto slapped Konoha on the back. “Lighten up will ya? It’s race day!”

Konoha winced (Kuroo felt a little sympathetic- Bokuto often forgot his own strength) and rolled his shoulder. “I’m aware. That’s why I want to get to this meeting, so we can set up our bikes, so we can be ready for practice, so we can kick this mangy cat’s ass.” He jabbed a thumb at Kuroo. 

Kuroo gasped. “Surely you can’t mean me? I am the most respectable racer here.”

A snort could be heard. Interestingly though, it didn’t seem to have come from Konoha. Kuroo whirled around and found none other than Keiji Akaashi standing behind them. 

“Ah, my apologies Kuroo. I’m sure you’re a very respectable racer.” Akaashi said with a small smirk. “It must be the hair that confuses people.” Konoha nearly choked on his own spit as he fought back a laugh at that.

Kuroo sniffed. “At least I don’t need to deal with leaky fuel valves half an hour before a race.” He grabbed Bokuto’s hand and kicked weakly at a still chuckling Konoha. “Let’s go guys.” He hauled them off, ignoring how Akaashi fell into step right behind them. 

“Bro!” Bokuto whispered urgently, tugging on his sleeve. Kuroo leaned down. “Bro who is that? He’s so pretty!” 

Kuroo gave him a pained glance. “Really dude? That’s Keiji Akaashi. The rookie I’ve been talking about?” 

“Ooooooh! You never mentioned that he was like… drop dead gorgeous!” Kuroo ran a hand across his face.

“You’ve seen him before. He was at the coke syrup we went to in Waterloo.” He could see the gears turning in Bokuto’s head, trying to place Waterloo, and most likely, trying to remember anything about that trip outside of the mind blowing sex. 

“Was that the place with the killer loose meat sandwiches?” He asked finally. Kuroo actually groaned aloud. Of course he had been thinking about food.

“Yeah Bo. I guess it was.” They arrived at the staging area, and Kuroo was spared any more conversation from Bokuto. They all managed to make it through the meeting without any further incidents. 

Afterwards, Kuroo beckoned to Akaashi, who had remained nearby. “So, Akaashi.”

“So, Kuroo.”

“How are you feeling for your first GNC-One race?” Akaashi shrugged, noncommittally.

“I’ve been training. I feel well prepared.” 

“Did you eat a good breakfast!?” Bokuto interrrupted. Kuroo sighed. He was so rubbish around pretty people. “Starting your day with a healthy breakfast is the best way to ensure a great day! You can compete with too few calories!” 

“Ah, Akaashi. This is Koutarou Bokuto,” Kuroo said. 

Akaashi extended a hand. “Very nice to officially meet you Bokuto. You’re a very talented racer.” Bokuto shook his hand with much enthusiasm, preening at the accomplishment. 

At that moment, an announcement was made, welcoming them and stating that qualifiers would begin in half an hour. 

“Well, I suppose it’s time to get to work. Nice seeing you Kuroo, Bokuto.” Akaashi waved and walked off. 

“Kuroo, he’s so nice! AND he’s pretty! I can see why you like him dude.” 

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed reluctantly, “He’s nice, I guess. He seems… crafty, though.”

“What? Dude, no. I think you’re being paranoid,” Bokuto scoffed. They reached their pit and went for their bags to get dressed. Bokuto immediately dropped his pants, revealing the tight black boxer briefs with the tiny cartoon owls he always wore on race days. Kuroo made sure to whistle appreciatively, which turned to laughing as Bokuto got his leg stuck in hole of his race pants and had to hop around, trying to get unstuck.

Once they were both dressed, they went over their bikes. Bokuto was racing with a white Yamaha FZ-07 with gold accents, while Kuroo was riding his reliable Triumph Bonneville, decked out in red and black.

Qualifying laps went by without a hitch. Oikawa ended up being the fastest qualifier of the day, but Bokuto and Kuroo did well enough for themselves. Iwaizumi ended up in the top five. Daichi qualified just above the middle of the pack, and Yui just below. Another terrifying rookie named Kageyama started off his qualifying laps well, but had an engine failure before he could finish. Apparently he had failed to bring a back up bike. (“Tough luck, but man am I not complaining,” Bokuto had muttered to Kuroo as they watched him kick his bike in frustration, “That guy is scary focused.”) 

Then it was time for the heats. There were three heats this time around, with the top four finishers from each heat moving directly on to the main, and everyone else going to semi-finals. Kuroo was in heat one along with Oikawa, Daichi and Iwaizumi. Bokuto was in heat two with Akaashi, and Yui as well as a verteran racer, Asahi Azumane, who everyone called The Ace. Konoha had ended up in heat three. 

Kuroo’s heat was up first. He stretched carefully, trying not psych himself out. Strapping his helmet firmly into place and checking that his chest protector was buckled securely under his jersey, he made his way to the staging area. His bike kicked to life easily, and he drummed his fingers on the gas tank, a silent thanks and a pre-race ritual. 

After what seemed like an eternity, they lined up the racers on the starting line. Oikawa was at the pole position, closest to the inside. Iwaizumi was starting fifth, and Kuroo sixth, the far outside rider on the front line. 

They lined up. They took their practice lap. They returned to the starting line. Kuroo pulled up on the shifter ensuring the bike was locked in second, then focused all his attention on the starting lights. The ten second board went up, then down. Engines revved. The lights changed- Red, yellow, yellow-

GREEN. Kuroo released the clutch, bike leaping forward. His attention was fixed solely on the first corner, blocking out the press of bikes behind and everything but the light blue of Oikawa’s jersey, rushing for the hole shot. 

Kuroo could feel Iwaizumi just behind and to the left. He shifted quickly to third, gunning the throttle. Oikawa remained in first, but he edged Iwaizumi out just before turn one, throwing the bike sideways, and keeping it as low on the track as he could. Iwaizumi was a gutsy racer, but he always preferred the inside line, Kuroo knew. Turns one and two flashed by and then he was shifting to fourth, barreling down the back straight and throwing it right into turn three, all in a flash. 

He gained steadily on Oikawa, always fighting off Iwaizumi along the way. By lap three of eight, he was breathing down Oikawa’s neck, front tire just kissing the inside wall of Oikawa’s rear tire. They remained locked in that position on lap four, lap five- going into turn one on lap six, Iwaizumi suddenly gunned forward on the inside, jostling Kuroo as he went.

Kuroo was forced up and outside, fighting to keep the bike in the groove. He tucked quickly back to the inside of track, desperate not to lose another position. He only needed fourth to advance directly to the main. He only needed fourth, but man did first taste sweeter. 

He regained control, speeding up behind Iwaizumi. He caught up to him coming out of turn four, but Iwaizumi knew he was there. He was doing his best to stop Kuroo from passing, drifting up and down in front of him. Kuroo saw the white flag and knew it was now or never. Iwaizumi was looking for a way around Oikawa, and Kuroo knew he had to time this just right.

He got closer and closer, sitting just behind Iwaizumi on the inside. There! Iwaizumi tried to lunge forward and Oikawa blocked him, sacrificing speed to protect his spot. Kuroo lunghed his bike up and outside, shooting past both of them as they scuffled. 

Pinning the throttle open, Kuroo gave it everthing he had. If he lost the lead now, there was no time to get it back. 

He shot down the back straight, Oikawa hot on his trail. Sideways into three, holding it through four, then down the front straight and Oikawa was right. There. But it just wasn’t enough and Kuroo shot through the checkered flag half a bike length ahead of him, Iwaizumi right behind.

He pumped a fist in the air and he slowed down, bringing the bike around and off the track, back to the pits. He rolled to a gentle stop at the end of the row and pushed the bike in, popping the stand in. Bokuto was already lining up for his heat, so Kuroo dropped off his helmet and trotted over to the barricades to watch. 

When he saw the line up he winced in sympathy. Bokuto was right in the middle of the pack on the second row. It was his least favorite place to start. He preferred the outside on any row. 

Akaashi was on the inside of row two, Asahi in the middle of row, and Yui just on the outside of Bokuto. 

The ten second board went down, and Kuroo clenched his fists. A good start was everything and sometimes Bokuto got too antsy waiting for the light. He could see the tension in Bokuto’s muscles, pressed forward against the handlebars, right foot barely touching the ground and keeping him up. 

The light turned green and the pack took off. It was no good though- a rider by the name of Tanaka got too eager into turn one and took out Yui, several bikes going down before they could complete the first turn. It took long enough to untangle the mess that the track officials called for a restart.

Kuroo could practically see Bokuto’s nerves fraying now. Multiple restarts were the worst for him, so Kuroo crossed his fingers and hoped for a smooth start this time. HIs prayers worked.

Bokuto got a better line off the start, cutting in front of his row traffic and slipping easily into fourth. He jostled a bit with Yui, but with the height and weight he had on her she couldn’t hope to edge him out forcefully. 

One lap went down and Bokuto managed to steal third from Asahi. He was working up to take second when Akaashi came roaring up from the middle of the pack. He passed Yui and then Asahi in the same lap and was on Bokuto in what seemed like an instant. He pressed hard on the inside line, trying to force Bokuto up. They looked close, too close to be able to keep upright, but Bokuto was strong and he fought for control of his bike. 

They continued to scuffle for third, while first and second slipped further away. Bokuto managed to hold him off for awhile, but then Akaashi seemed to renew his energy. He rushed deep to the inside, abandoning the safety of the groove and his line to try and get under Bokuto. It worked. He snuck up inch by inch until they were pressed side to side. Then all Akaashi had to do was lean up, moving back into groove and pushing Bokuto out. Except he didn’t do it gently or slowly. He shot up, using the combined weight of him and his bike to shove Bokuto hard. 

Kuroo could imagine the yelp Bokuto let out, as he was forced all the way up to the cushion to try and regain control. It cost him precious time and when he was able to dart back down to the inside, Asahi and Yui had already taken back their spots. He fought as hard as he could to get back to fourth but Yui was desperate too. He didn’t have enough time and he finished the race in fifth. 

Kuroo met him back at the pits, where Bokuto had already tossed off his helmet and was sprawled dejectedly in a chair. 

“Man, what is that guy’s problem!” Bokuto yelled, as soon as he spotted Kuroo. “It was a friggin heat race, and he’s out there like it’s the main!” Kuroo could black marks on the outside of Bokuto’s pants, rubber marks left from Akaashi’s tires. 

“I told you, bro, he’s sneaky.” He dropped a quick kiss in Bokuto’s hair, hoping to placate him. He still had to race a semi-final, it wouldn’t do for him to be too worked up. 

Bokuto snorted. “Sneaky, he’s downright ruthless. Well I’ll tell you, I am not letting some upstart rookie keep me from the main. I’m going to go out there and kick his ass.” 

Kuroo grinned. “That’s the spirit babe!” He chucked a bottle of water at Bokuto. Kuroo and Konoha managed to calm him down, distracting him with food, and making adjustments on his bike, and before he knew it was time for the semi-final. 

Maybe it was their distraction techniques or maybe it was Bokuto’s own burning desire to grind Akaashi into the dust, but he once he got out of the gate, there was no stopping him. He took the lead from the from start and kept it through the entire semi-final, easily securing his own spot in the main. 

Then it was Kuroo’s turn to be nervous. He buckled his boots back up, affixed his helmet, checked his bike, checked his fuel level, tightened and loosened the velcro on his gloves about twenty times until Yaku threatened to chuck a wrench at his head. He stretched, shook out his arms and legs, made out with Bokuto until Yaku really did throw a wrench at them and then finally, finally, they called the riders to the staging area. 

The officials lined them up, Kuroo standing anxiously at the front of the line while Yaku held the bike. Then they began the slow process of parading them out. The announcer, an excitable man by the name of Nishinoya greeted everyone. “Good evening everyone and welcome to your Daytona Flat Track Main Event! We’ve seen a lot of great racing already tonight and we’re looking forward to a spectacular final. So without further ado, let’s meet the riders for your main event!” 

The starting official waved Kuroo forward and he walked, waving at the crowd as his name was announced. “Starting in the pole position, riding the Cat Strike Motors Triumph, and hailing from Springfield, Illinois, it’s National Number One, the reigning champ, Tetsurou “The Triumph” Kuroo!” Nishinoya called. “Starting in the number two position from Gainsville, Florida, with the fastest qualifying time of the day, number 15, Tooru Oikawa! And next to him in the number three position is his Castle Motors teammate, number 14, Hajime Iwaizumi!”

They progressed that way through all 18 qualifying riders. Kuroo mostly tuned it out, listening only to a few more introductions, like Akaashi’s (“Starting in the second position on row two, hailing from Peoria, Illinois and making his first appearance in a GNC-One main event, a contender for rookie of the year, number 25K, it’s Keiji Akaashi!”) and Bokuto’s (“And moving back to the third row, starting on the inside, all the way from Bakersfield, California, National Number 4, they call him “The Bullet,” Koutarou Bokuto!”). 

A front row start was always a good thing, but man was it nerve-wracking having that much talent nipping at your heels. 

They started their bikes with no problems, taking a quick warm up lap and returning to their starting positions. Kuroo exhaled, pushing out all of his jitters and focusing on his foot on the shifter, his hands on the clutch and throttle and the light. 

When it flashed green, he dropped the clutch, immediately shifting into third and trying to outgun the other starters into the first corner. He easily outpaced Iwaizumi and Oikawa, but then Akaashi was on him. He couldn’t tell where anyone else was, but he felt the insistent press of Akaashi’s bike on his tail. He was gunning hard, but it was still early. Kuroo could let him have this for now. 

He didn’t exactly give up the fight, but he stopped expending so much energy to block Akaashi. Akaashi was good, but he was still a rookie. He was burning too hot, too early. He was used to twelve lap main events, and GNC-One races were more than twice as long. Lap Twenty-Five was a long way off.

Akaashi overtook Kuroo on lap six. By lap twelve, Bokuto had made it to the front of the pack, with Yui, light on her bike right behind him. Yui lost control of her powerslide coming out of turn three on lap fifteen and bounced up to the top of the track, allowing Iwaizumi to steal fourth place. And Kuroo waited. He could see the fatigue in Akaashi’s stance, the way it was harder and harder for him to keep his line. On lap nineteen, Bokuto made his move, nudging Kuroo out of the way and claiming second.

Kuroo fought him, but when Bokuto wanted something to move, it was probably going to move. In all honesty, Kuroo spared some sympathy for Akaashi. The rookie was tired, but Bokuto had stamina to spare. He pressed Akaashi just as hard as he had been pressed earlier. 

Akaashi couldn’t fight it. Bokuto pinned open fifth gear on the front straight and pushed Akaashi all the way out to the wall. The crowd roared, and Kuroo shook his head. He could never resist a spectacle. 

Once he had lost first, Akaashi dropped like a stone, Kuroo and Iwaizumi easily overtaking him in Bokuto’s wake, then falling further behind Asahi and Yui. 

Now it was Bokuto in first, Kuroo in second and Iwaizumi in third. This was dance they were all used to, having raced together for years. All three knew the others preferred lines, quirks, and bad habits.

Kuroo knew if he hung just behind Bokuto on the outside, he would get nervous. People passing on the inside was one thing, it was easier to block them off. Passing on the outside was harder, but more likely to get your opponent to overcorrect trying to block you. 

Lap twenty-three and the green and white flags were up, two laps to go. Kuroo pressed harder, edging up on Bokuto’s right and forcing him to swing wide going into the first corner. It was exactly what Kuroo needed. As Bokuto floated up the track, Kuroo let off the throttle ever so briefly and dove inside, pinning it open again and throwing his bike sideways as he shot past Bokuto.

There was no time to let up. Iwaizumi had managed to follow Kuroo, keeping Bokuto on the outside and he was now gunning for first. He was not like Bokuto. He could ride any line with a frightening proficiency, though he preferred the inside. 

He came up hot on Kuroo’s inside, and almost got him in the final turn. They shot past the white flag and skidded into the turn, throttles wide open until the last second, brakes unused as they slid into the corner right next to each other. Kuroo held his line, blocking Iwaizumi out. In his haste though, he forgot one important thing: when Bokuto was fixated on something rational thought completely left his mind. 

While Kuroo and Iwaizumi bumped and nudged on the inside line, Bokuto swung wide in the back straight and gunned his throttle as fast as he could. He passed them on the straight, but they had the better line going into the corner. He couldn’t hold it unless he- Kuroo could barely believe as Bokuto threw his bike into the final curve, throttle still wide open. It was stupidly reckless, and he very nearly lost control of the bike, flirting with a high side crash as he slid around the corner. 

Kuroo was so distracted watching his boyfriend nearly kill himself, he allowed Iwaizumi to overtake him. Swears muffled into his helmet, he tried to recapture the spot but it was too late. They shot by the double checkered flags, Bokuto first, Iwaizumi second and Kuroo right behind in third. 

As they slowed, Kuroo could see Bokuto standing up on his pegs, left fist pumping the air as he rolled around to the winners podium. 

He managed to keep his tongue in check as they received their trophies and gave quick speeches, thanking mechanics and fans and sponsors like obedient riders. 

Back in the pits though, Kuroo unleashed on Bokuto. “Are you fuckin’ crazy?” He hissed, as Bokuto dropped his helmet onto his gear bag. “This is the first race of the season, are you trying to hurt yourself?” Bokuto flopped into his chair, bending down to unbuckle boots. 

“Look, I know it was stupid man, I was just- I was just so fired up, I didn’t even care I was already ahead of Akaashi, I just wanted to win right?” Bokuto shrugged and Kuroo sighed. He knew Bokuto was sorry for taking such a risk. Yelling at him wouldn’t help. Instead he knelt down and helped Bokuto pull his off his boots. 

“I know, Bo, just. Fuck, be more careful okay? You know I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“I know, babe. Hey, but look, we both finished in the top three, be happy!”

Kuroo grinned. “I am happy you fool. Come here.” He tugged on Bokuto’s jersey, rising up on his knees and Bokuto happily leaned forward to meet him. The kiss was sloppy, both of them with too much adrenaline still pounding in their veins. Mouths open, tongues meeting wetly, and Kuroo tiled his head, deepening the kiss. 

“Jesus, we can’t leave you two alone at all can we?” Yaku’s voice broke them apart reluctantly. Kuroo stole another quick peck, before turning to greet his mechanic. To his surprise, Yaku was not alone. Behind him, flushed red and looking anywhere but at Bokuto and Kuroo was Keiji Akaashi. 

Yaku hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the younger rider. “He wanted to talk to you guys so I offered to bring him by. If I had known you two would be at it again I would have saved him the mental scarring.” Job done, Yaku moved over to the tool box and started packing things away.

Kuroo rose and flopped into a chair across from Bokuto, unbuckling and pulling off his boots, before looking up at Akaashi, who was still awkwardly standing just outside the tent, fingers interlockingly and toying nervously.

“I-” He began, stopped, cleared his throat, and continued. “I just wanted to congratulate you two. You’re very excellent riders. I look forward to racing against you more this season.” With that said he turned and walked off quickly. Or as quickly as someone could in race boots and a hot shoe. 

Kuroo met Bokuto’s eyes, and managed to hold it together for about three seconds before he burst out laughing. “Dude, he’s so adorable. Did you see how flustered he was?”

Bokuto was laughing as well. “He’s so into you bro. You know what this means? We need to take him under our wing! It’s our responsibility as veterans to mentor the rookies and make them into ‘excellent riders’!” He proclaimed, grandly, hands on hips. Or it might have been grandly if he hadn’t been in the middle of removing his pants, which now puddled around his ankles.

Kuroo snorted. “Bo, he kicked your ass today without mentoring. Once he builds up his stamina for the mains, he’ll be pretty formibable. You sure you want to help him?”

Bokuto looked up from trying to untangle his feet. “A little healthy rivalry can be super fun though, don’t you think?”

Kuroo thought about competitiveness in their own relationship, growing up egging each other on, winning and losing and always striving to get better together. 

“Yeah. Yeah I think it can be. Let’s do it.” Kuroo said with a grin. This season might just be the most interesting yet, and he was ready for it. 

Bring it on, he thought to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Tumblr at 
> 
> powersuitup.tumblr.com 
> 
> Unbeta-ed, so please let me know of any errors! 
> 
>  
> 
> Coke Syrup- A race held inside an arena or stadium on concrete sprayed with a sticky syrup to help the bikes keep traction. One of the more dangerous short track races, and amateur only events. 
> 
> Hole Shot- When a rider beats the rest of the field to the first corner, usually aiming for the inside corner of the track. 
> 
> Hot Shoe- A special metal sole plate flat trackers wear on their left boot to help them through corners.


End file.
